Belated Gifts
by sandra70
Summary: When the family bunch has left after the first Christmas dinner at Emma's and Killian's new house, Killian gets to unwrap a few more gifts...


"Alone at last," Killian sighs after closing the door behind the merry lot of people, all well-fed, well-entertained, and well-equipped with bags full of gifts and containers full of leftovers from their abundant Christmas dinner, the very first one celebrated in their new home. It warmed his heart to see all those people – people he considers his family as well as Emma's – gathered around their big table, and he's getting the hang of it, that whole _being a part of something_. Okay, accepting the bloody Wicked Witch among them was a little awkward at the beginning, but then – Zelena hasn't been any more wicked than Regina has been evil and he... well. He was what he was. He admits that it isn't simple to put a name on that _something_ , but as a matter of fact, they are all part of it. And, oddly enough, those dinners didn't suck.

But as happy as he was, he's happy now to share some alone time and a few quiet – or maybe _not so quiet_ – moments with his Swan. To make a point, he sighs in an exaggerated way after closing the door, like he got relieved from an extreme weight on his shoulders.

Emma rolls her eyes. "Come on," she huffs, "don't act like you didn't enjoy the company. I've been watching you."

He smirks. "I'm sure you have." He runs his tongue across his bottom lip. "I'm flattered."

"You always are," she throws over her shoulder as she carries the last wayward wine glass into the kitchen and just puts it in the sink. "You liked showing off with your cooking skills."

"That has nothing to do with showing off," he replies and fills the glass up with water so it will be easier to clean later, to which she rolls her eyes and murmurs something like " _nitpicker"_.

"Oh, sure, it hasn't," Emma chuckles, "same as Regina isn't gonna show off at all when we'll be at her place tomorrow."

He tilts his head. "Nothing wrong with a friendly competition." He reaches for Emma, and she slips into his embrace, wrapping her arm around his waist as they return to the living room for a last mug of hot cocoa – for him, it's tea – on the couch in front of the fireplace.

"Alright, I didn't dislike the company," he admits as he slumps down on the couch, "but I'd prefer quality time alone with you over any party at any time."

To that, she laughs, and the sound is music to his ears. Before she sits down at his side, Emma snaps her fingers at him when she remembers something. "Oh, by the way, I almost forgot... I have another gift for you!"

That earns her another one of his dashing pirate smirks, decidedly more lewd this time, and his eyes glitter devilishly. "Do you, now?" he drawls, "I thought we exchanged gifts this morning?"

Emma tugs at her ponytail, and the gesture – seemingly so innocent – makes his blood boil all of a sudden. "Yeah," she replies and bats her eyelashes at him like the enchantress she is, "but I have one thing I wanted to give you... in private."

He tilts his head cockily and slides his tongue along the inside of his teeth. "I see... well, then..." With one sudden, yet smooth move he snatches her with hand and hook at her hips and whirls her onto the couch – she actually _squeals_ – and is on top of her in no time. "Let me unwrap my gift."

She laughs breathlessly and puts her hands against his chest. "Whoa, easy there, sailor!"

Unimpressed by her feigned protest, he pulls her sweater over her head with his hand and his hook in a well-practiced move, deftly managing not to tear a hole into it, and tosses it to the floor. "I prefer _Captain_ ," he replies in a hoarse voice, "and I've been waiting to do this all day..."

Emma bites her lip, a gesture that drives him crazy as she bloody well knows, and smiles up at him saucily. "And here I thought you were such a patient man..."

He sneaks his hand underneath her and reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra with expert fingers. "I used up all my patience during my courtship," he growls and lowers his head without further preliminary as soon as he has removed the lacy undergarment.

"Good point," she manages breathlessly and then loses her ability to form coherent sentences; all there's left for her is to throw back her head and and moan when his mouth latches on her right nipple and his fingers come up to work the left one. First he firmly strokes the pad of his thumb over it a few times until it pebbles, then he takes it between his thumb and forefinger and squeezes a little, twirls and tugs and applies just the right amount of pressure to keep it just-so on the verge of painful. He does very similar things with his mouth, and when he sucks just that little bit harder and her hand grabs a fistful of his hair, he knows he's doing it right. He leaves his hand busy where it is and kisses up her neck, letting his mouth wander along the sublime line of her long throat on a fiery path. Exquisite is the vibration of her moans against his lips, and when his scruff scrapes across the cords of her neck and he bites down lightly on her earlobe, she loses it.

Her back arches, and her legs fall open in a silent invitation, and far be it from him to deny her any wish, so he doesn't lose any time and nestles between them. He feels her hand sneak underneath his own shirt, and the way her short nails scratch down his spine holds a certain urgency. He hisses at the burn and grinds his erection against her core in response, eliciting another pretty moan from her. She spreads her thighs wantonly, and both her hands come down on his butt to pull him into her even closer, so again he obliges. He rolls his hips forward in a dirty move, dragging his whole hardened length across her center, enjoying the heat he can feel emanating from her center even through their combined layers of clothing.

"Like that, don't you," he breathes into her ear and continues pushing into her.

"God, _yes_ ," she pants, mirroring his moves with her own.

He smiles against her skin and starts to suck a mark into the skin right below her collarbone while the rhythm of his rocking hips increases steadily. He takes pleasure in this game, knowing if he plays it well he can make her come like that and hold his own release back just to drive it into her all the harder afterwards. It's an incredible feeling to plunge into her right after she's peaked, while she's all wet and swollen and still quivering with the aftershocks, not let her really come down. Usually, it doesn't take more than a few deep, hard thrusts to pull her back to the edge once more, and when his own orgasm hits, she falls apart with him again.

Emma has enjoyed this game on occasion, too, but today it seems like she has other plans, because before he seriously gets down to business, she puts her hands against his chest and pushes him back with determination and with the huffed order, "Pants off, _now!_ "

Killian chuckles but pulls back, immediately regretting the loss of contact. "Who's impatient now, Swan?" he teases, but he quickly rises from the couch to get rid of his pants, because he knows it won't be his loss, and her wish is his demand anyway.

As soon as he's off the couch and starts to shove his sweatpants down, Emma sits up in a swift move and puts her feet on the floor. Reaching for him with both hands, she grabs him by the hips and pulls him near. He's rock-hard by now, and his cock juts forward in eager anticipation of what's to come, because there's no doubt about her wicked intentions. She licks her lips and grins wolfishly, making him twitch in response.

She takes him in her hand as if she wants to weigh him and squeezes his throbbing flesh firmly, making him groan once and then again louder when she languidly runs her grip up and down his shaft, pumping him a few times.

"Didn't get enough candy cane, did you?" he rasps in a thick voice, but shuts up when she leans forward and licks a languid, wet stripe along his underside before taking him in her mouth.

She closes her lips firmly around him and slowly slides them all the way down until his sensitive tip nudges the back of her throat. Hollowing her cheeks, she presses the flat of her tongue against him as she pulls back again all the way. Then she sucks him back in and repeats the move, a little faster this time, and then again. Her fingers dig into the back of his thighs as she holds him in place while she's finding her rhythm, swaying back and forth with her whole body as she blows him well and thorough.

Killian watches with utter fascination and adoration as her head moves steadily, her blonde curls bobbing along, her eye closed, obviously completely enraptured by what she's doing to him. He knows she likes to do that, likes the control and the vulnerability that are equally shared in this situation, because he's at her mercy, and she's at his. The sight drives him crazy, the sight of her lips working him, his cock sliding in and out of her gorgeous mouth, and with every stroke she takes him deeper. His hand finds the way to the side of her head, fingers slightly tangling into her hair, messing up her ponytail. When his hips start to rock a little to meet the moves of her mouth, she hums in contentment, and he can feel the vibrations run like shock waves through his body.

He can feel his balls squirm underneath his skin, and he knows if he lets her continue, soon he'll be too far gone to stop. As much as he loves feeling her mouth around him when he comes, lips holding him firmly until he's done and stops shuddering, starts softening – however, today this is not how he wants it to go; same as she didn't want to fall without him earlier, he feels the mighty need to do this together.

Emma of course doesn't know anything about his qualms and continues to work him steadily, so he stops her by tugging a little at her ponytail. "Wait, Emma," he manages breathlessly and pulls back so that he slips out of her mouth, "come here."

She pouts a little with her swollen lips, and for a second he has to fight the urge to shove himself right back in, but then he takes her hand and pulls her to her feet.

She smirks and licks her lips slowly, as if she's reminiscing the taste of him. "What is it, Captain," she teases, "can't take it?"

Leaning forward, he mutters, "I'm planning to do exactly that." With hand and hook at her waist, he whirls her around in a sudden move and commands in a low voice, "Get up there." He shoves her a little forward, and she obliges eagerly, gets on her knees on the couch and bends forward, leaning onto the headrest of the couch. "Now where was I," he growls, "ah right, unwrapping my gift." He pulls down her sweatpants and panties in one swift move and positions himself right behind her. She pushes her ass in his direction wantonly, and he reaches down, feeling between her legs for her entrance, where he finds her all wet. "Bloody hell, Swan," he rasps, "you really want that candy cane, don't you?"

"Yes," she pants, "yes, I want it!"

He teases her a bit with his fingers, brushing and playing and dancing along her entrance, but not entering her. She whines in frustration, writhes and tries to push against him to which he chuckles again and pulls his fingers back. "And have you been naughty or nice?" he asks and smacks her ass – not all too gently – and she moans. "I guess there's my answer," he growls and spanks her again twice, harder this time, and revels in the feral, almost obscene sounds she makes.

Those combined with the exquisite sight of her exposed and bared to him like that, squirming in anticipation, her whole posture begging him to take her roughly, drives him wild. His blood is singing in his ears in a maddening rush while he takes his cock in his hand – he's rock hard by now – and lines himself up at her entrance, tentatively just-so dipping his tip inside. After his slaps, she's even slicker than before, and he groans, a primal sound rumbling deep in his chest as he pushes into her in one smooth, deep thrust. Emma moans again, and after a few slides in and out they've found their rhythm. She steadies herself against the headrest of the couch and withstands his pressure, pushing back firmly when he thrusts forward to fuck her in earnest.

"More," she pants, and he grasps a handful of her hair as he obliges and starts to drive into her at a murderous pace, filthy curse words tumbling from his lips. The feeling is overwhelming, and when she starts to tense and clench around him, he feels the first tendrils of his orgasm lick at the base of his spine. Pulling together all of his self-control and skills, he gives her a few more deep strokes until she's bucking and shaking and panting his name, and he knows he can finally let go.

Emma collapses on the couch and he beside her, both making a mess on the blanket that's draped over it. They don't care though, because cleaning sticky sheets and blankets is so much easier when you have got magic. Breathing heavily, they lie on their sides, Killian's face buried in her tangled locks, and for a full minute neither of them finds the strength to even utter a word.

"Merry Christmas," he finally murmurs into her hair, earning him a carefree giggle from her.

She sits up and fishes for her sweater that's lying crumpled on the floor. "It definitely is," she replies and pulls the sweater over her head before she turns to him again and runs her fingers through his hair, smoothing a damp strand back from his forehead. "So," she continues, "about your gift..."

Killian tilts his head and raises his eyebrows in feigned shock. " _Again?_ " he huffs, and she rolls her eyes. "Give a man some time to recover, Swan!"

She shakes her head at him, slaps him with the back of her hand and gets up from the couch, enjoying his disappointed face when she adjusts her sweatpants and slips out of reach. Then she walks over to the bookshelf, reaches for something – a flat rectangular white box – and saunters back to the couch again. When she hands it to him, he blinks in confusion.

"For me?" he questions. "You were serious then?"

"Of course I was," she chuckles, "you just didn't let me finish talking."

"Are you complaining, Swan?" he teases and shakes the card box; it's surprisingly light.

She waves him off impatiently, "I would never. Go ahead, open it!"

She doesn't even think of helping him with the red ribbon she's tied around it; his fingers and hook do just fine, like always, and so he opens the box in no time. He frowns when he looks at the content, then he looks again, closer still, looks at her – _stares –_ his eyes wide as saucers. His mouth is dry all of a sudden. That weird kind of picture in black and white with the swirls and grey shadows – he has seen such a picture before. He swallows, opens his mouth and almost stumbles over his own words. "Is that... is that what I think it is?!"

Emma's smile, teasing and playful before, is nothing but soft and loving now. "What _do_ you think this is?"

He drops the box to the floor and reaches for her hand. "Emma... are you... do you..."

A little cheekiness sneaks into her happy smile. "I guess you could say there's a little pirate in me."

He dips his head to the side, his mouth hanging half open in disbelief, and she thinks the blue of his eyes has never been more vibrant, more shining than it is now. He lets go of her hand and wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her in for a kiss, too overwhelmed with his emotions to let his mouth speak in any other way. When their lips part, they grin at each other like idiots.

Then suddenly, his face falls. "Bloody hell, Swan!" he blurts out, and she frowns in confusion at first, then he continues, "And you let me..." He runs his hand through his hair, making it stand out in nervous spikes.

Emma smiles softly and captures his hand with her own. "Calm down," she soothes, "do you think I'd do something that could harm our child?"

"No, of course not!" he assures her hastily. "I just... well..." He lets his voice trail off, gesturing vaguely with his hand. Then he lifts it to scratch behind his ear, being so obviously embarrassed that she's delighted and so endeared by the fact that in some things even Captain Hook is just an ordinary guy after all who cringes at the completely irrational thought that his unborn child, hardly larger than a magic bean now, might just have felt the tip of his cock.

"Killian," she says softly and takes his scruffy face in both hands, leaning a little forward, her eyes searching his. "Hey. For the next seven months or so you need to keep only one thing in mind." He looks at her and raises an eyebrow in question. "Anything that makes the mom happy," she continues with a grin, "is good for the child." He snorts a little laugh, and she wiggles her eyebrows adds, "And you just made me _very_ happy."

He swallows thickly, his throat tight with emotion, and cups her cheek with his hand. "Thank you," he replies in a very hoarse voice, "for trusting me... enough to build a future with me."

Stupid tears sting in the corners of her eyes, and she puts her left hand over his, holding him against her face. Turning her head a little to the side, she presses a kiss to his palm and looks back at him with the most loving smile. "You taught me that, stupid," she says earnestly.

He leans his forehead against hers, and for a moment they just breathe in each other's silence, trying to process the news; even if Emma has known for a few days now, it still had something unreal about it, until she said it out loud, until she told Killian about it. Telling him somehow made it real. She never planned this, and she never knew she even wanted this – but now it seems like the most natural thing of the world.

"How long have you known?" Killian finally asks.

"Only a few days," she replies and shrugs. "I had suspected for a bit longer, though."

"And how long do you want to keep it a secret?"

She presses her lips into an almost shy smile. "I was planning to tell the family tomorrow, if you're okay with it." She throws him a questioning glance that melts his heart because no one has ever been so considerate with his feelings.

"Of course I am," he answers quickly, "I mean, not even your father can complain." Emma chuckles, and Killian adds, "I'm just glad I asked him already for your hand a few weeks ago."

"Oh come on," she huffs and rolls her eyes, "you did not _really_ ask my father's _permission_ to propose, right? I mean, that's outdated even by _his_ standards."

He tilts his head. "Don't forget that technically I'm way older than him," he reminds her and smiles. "Besides, you know neither your father nor I would ever dare to act like that and actually _mean_ it. It had nothing to do with actually asking his permission."

Emma frowns. "You mean, it was one of those weird _guy_ things? Like meaningful back slaps?"

He scratches behind his ear again. "Well, the purpose was to let him know that I hoped that as your father and my..." he pauses for a moment, then he tilts his head, "well, as my _friend_ he would approve of it." He purses his lips into a grin. "And he knew that he didn't really have a say in it. "

She laughs. "You know he loves you, right?"

His smirk broadens, unable to hold his happiness at bay. "I tend to have that effect on people."

She nods gravely, in feigned defeat. "Our child will adore you. I won't stand a chance."

 _Our child_. The words have an irreal sound to him, but he's already getting used to it. Breaking out in carefree laughter, he pulls her into his lap and captures her lips in a searing kiss. She basically wraps herself around him and revels in his warmth that envelops her.

"So, you like your gift then," she finally murmurs against his lips.

"It's wonderful," he whispers back, "you're giving me everything I thought I'd never have. A family. A place where I belong." He swallows and nudges her nose with his. "Love."

Emma smiles a blinding smile, feeling so light. "Likewise," she replies ad snuggles closer although that's nearly impossible. "Merry Christmas, daddy."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ this is a gutterflower Secret Santa gift for _ **jscoutfinch**_! Merry Christmas!


End file.
